You're Not Invisible, Now, You Just Don't Exist
by hotwitchproblems
Summary: Patrick notices his feelings and views on Tate are changing. When Chad tells him they won't be spending Halloween together, he figures he'll figure out some of these feelings by hanging out with Tate that night. Title inspired by a lyric is The Shins' 'The Rifle's Spiral'. In three parts.
1. So Long To This Wretched Form

_A/N - I want to acknowledge that the latter parts (though not yet uploaded) would not have been easy to write without graceonce's (on Tumblr) fanmix for Tate and the other Fab 5 characters. The songs selected are very good and everyone should give her 'fab5' tag a look! _

He didn't know when he started thinking about the 'other blonde prick', as Chad so lovingly referred to him, more than usual. Most the time he only regarded him as the number one enemy. The reason he was stuck in this hell on earth.

Maybe it was after the borderline erotic fight they got into in the room that was supposed to be the nursery. Maybe it was when he was having his one of hundreds jerking off sessions in the bathroom he had tried to bed Ben in. Being stuck in this house, he didn't have a lot of material to work with. An image of Tate, slowly taking off that slick rubber suit flashed through his mind.

For a moment, he paused, freaked out that he was thinking about Tate in a sexual way. Tate Langdon, the teenage-Kurt-Cobain-wannabe psychopath. The kid who had strangled his lover (even if the relationship wasn't exactly peachy) and beaten him, with the lovely added touch of sticking a fire poker up his ass. He remembered the moment before he truly died, looking over at Chad's body and the utter sorrow that went through him. Then Tate shot them both.

It had only been about a year and a half since he and Chad were killed. And now he was imagining his killer slightly naked? He shook his head, momentarily taking his hand off his erection.

He looked at himself in the mirror, beads of sweat dripping down the sides of his face. It wasn't like he was the sanest person, when it came to his turn ons and sexual interests. But to jerk off to the image of your killer? The guy who ruined your life? The guy who made you stuck in a hell on earth of a house?

But he suddenly realized Tate was very much his type. At least in terms of appearance. Blonde? Check. Young? Check. Thin and slightly gangly? Check.

When Chad found out about the e-mails, he had the assumption that Patrick was into huge macho men, simply because he wanted to be dominated. That couldn't be further from the truth.

Patrick tended to think of himself as the 'macho' guy. He was tired of the boring, vanilla sex he and Chad were having. He wanted someone of Chad's stature and likeness to fuck him, but not Chad himself. So he started browsing BDSM chatboards, and most everyone in the house knew where the story went from there.

He wiped the sweat from his brow. Tate was also very dominant. Maybe to the point of angry, but that's what he was into.

He imagined the slick black latex pulling from his chest, sweaty and slick. His blonde hair matted from the hood. His briefs (he assumed) stuck tight to his body, barely any hair for a happy trail to be visible.

His hand traveled back to his dick, his thumb gliding over the head. He moaned and clutched onto the sink with his free hand. He jerked up and down, the image of Tate's sticky, sweaty body running through his mind. He grabbed on with his whole hand, sliding up and down the shaft. His breath became labored as he pictured Tate's pink lips kissing down his own neck. Tate's slender fingers rubbing up his chest. Tate's hair meshing with his own, a blonde tangle.

His knees slightly buckled as he finished. He panted and looked up in the mirror again, a wave of shame overcoming him as he realized what he had just masturbated to. He sighed and grabbed one of the white hand towels that Moira always had prepared. Wiping at the mess he had left, he shook his head and chuckled to himself. Of all the things he had jerked off to, he never thought a serial killer who he himself had been killed by, would be one of them.


	2. You Sublimate Yourself

Later in the year, near Halloween, he and Chad were having a glass of wine. He looked over at Chad, in a white collared shirt and his standard black slacks. "A white shirt and red wine?" he remarked. Chad rolled his eyes and took a sip. "You know I have about as much choice of what I wake up in as I do in living here." Chad grimaced and shook his head. "You're always in that damn tracksuit." Chad smirked and playfully pulled at the collar of the jacket.

They heard one of the floorboards creak and looked over at the doorway. Violet Harmon rocked on her knees. "Mind if I join you guys?" she pulled at the sides of her striped cardigan. Chad waved her over and laughed. Patrick scooted his chair a little. Chad stood up and walked over to the old cabinet that held the wine glasses. He picked one out and walked back to the table, picking up the bottle and pouring half a glass. Violet sat between them and grabbed the glass when Chad leaned over to hand it to her.

"Chad, she's a teenager." he pursed his lips and laced his fingers together, resting his chin on his hands. Violet took a small sip of the wine and wrinkled her nose. "Not the best, is it?" Chad took a swig of his own and smiled, ignoring Patrick's statement.

"I had harder stuff than this when I was 14." Violet remarked, raising the glass to her lips again and looking at Patrick. He smiled and nodded, remembering what he could of his teenage drinking days.

"Most kids serve jungle juice at parties, a large portion of it being Everclear." She smiled. Chad looked at her and stuck his tongue out, seemingly remembering the taste of the cheap grain alcohol. "That stuff'll get you fucked up real quick." Patrick replied. Violet nodded and laughed.

"So are you guys..." she looked at Patrick then Chad "-okay? Right now at least?" She placed her hands in her lap and waited.

"For now." Chad replied and grinned at Patrick. Patrick gave a small smile in return, but quickly thought back to his 'session' in the bathroom.

"That's good." she smiled and patted Chad's shoulder. He smiled sweetly back at her. Patrick wasn't sure why, or how, but her and Chad had become somewhat of good friends between the time of her death and present day. He knew part of it was because they weren't trying to steal her mother's babies anymore. He assumed another part might be because they had the shared experience of being cheated on. Adultery.

He brought himself back to the current conversation Chad and Violet were having. Violet had already polished off the half glass and Chad was pouring her another.

"Chad." Patrick said sternly. Chad furrowed his brows and glared back at him "She's dead, Patrick, it's not exactly like she's gonna get alcohol poisoning!" he yelled, causing Violet to flinch. Patrick looked down at the table cloth. The air stood still for a few seconds.

Chad sighed and rubbed his temples. "I'm sorry for yelling, Violet." He placed his hand on hers. She nodded and looked up at him, smiling a little. Patrick laced his fingers until his knuckles turned white.

"I just-" Chad stared at Violet and knit his brows in concern "Violet is very new to this whole death thing and it's almost been a year since her...passing." She stared at her glass "I don't think a glass of wine would hurt." He kept his eyes locked with Patrick's for a few more seconds and turned back to Violet "I'm sorry, sweetie, I didn't mean to scare you." He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and she nodded. "You know how I'm bad with my anger." he softly whispered and placed his hand on the side of her arm. Patrick glanced away and clenched his jaw.

He was upset. Chad had never apologized that compassionately when they were together/alive. He knew he was partially to blame. He'd be angry too if someone had cheated on him. His eyes fell to the hall near the dining room and he caught a figure shifting in the dark.

"I'm gonna excuse myself for a minute." Patrick pushed out his chair and rubbed the back of his neck "I'll be back soon." he said from over his shoulder.

In the hallway he saw the figure move into the 'den', one of the rooms that most families didn't put a T.V. in. Now it only had a single suede chartreuse chair and an old pull string lamp. He heard someone settle into the chair and walked over to the lamp, pulling the string down to illuminate the room.

Tate sat in the chair, a combat-booted foot resting on one knee. He was chewing harshly at his thumbnail. Patrick crossed his arms and stared at him.

"Since when did those too become so cozy?" Tate asked in an acidic tone. Patrick shook his head "You know as much as I do." Tate looked up at him, pausing in the chewing. Patrick returned his hand to the back of his neck. Tate began shaking his leg, causing the floor to creak in a semi-rhythmic pattern.

"Following her around is only gonna make your pain worse." Patrick fiddled with the pull-string. Tate put his face in his hands and sighed. "Yeah." he put them down and stared out the window "I know." They stayed still in the room for a few minutes.

"Why do you wanna help me anyway?" Tate looked back over at him. He let go of the metal ball and sighed, making his way over to the same window. "I don't know." he opened the old lace curtains a tad with his hand. "I guess 'cause I've been in your position." Tate smirked and looked into the hallway.

Patrick looked out the window. The only person out was an older man with his dog. "Hurting the one you love most to fill some weird, selfish desire. Some void within your coal black heart." Patrick pressed his forehead to the window. The cool pane felt good against his pounding head.

The curtains fluttered and he initially thought it was because of the common draft that came throughout the house. His assumption was stifled when he turned his head a little and saw Tate standing right next to him, staring out too.

"Do you mind?" he asked quietly. Patrick shook his head and moved over a little. He looked back out the window and laid one of his hands against the sill. Tate pressed his forehead to the glass too, sighing and causing a condensation cloud to spread near his mouth and onto the window.

"I wouldn't say..." Tate started then paused "Admit is a better word." Patrick got goosebumps as the warmth of Tate's breath hit his face. Even though he was dead, his breath always smelled good. An odd but pleasant mixture of cigarettes and Big Red. He felt his body tense up a bit.

"I wouldn't normally admit this to most, but..." Tate shifted a little, causing his shoulder to brush and rest lightly against Patrick's. Patrick tensed up more at first, but relaxed into it, still not used to 'skin to skin' contact since he hadn't experienced it in so long.

"You're not as bad as me." Tate turned his head to look at him, his lips only inches from Patrick's ear. He stayed looking ahead. "The worst thing you did was cheat on your boyfriend." Goosebumps formed up and down his arms, Tate's breath hitting his neck. He clenched the hand that wasn't on the windowsill.

"I set a guy's face on fire, simply because he committed an act I would end up doing later." Tate put his hand on the windowsill too, the tips of his fingers touching Patrick's. Patrick gulped, afraid he might have a nervous shudder or give out a shaky sigh.

"I shot five kids who did nothing to deserve it. Five kids who are probably stuck in that damn library. Bloodied and gored because I felt they deserved it. High on coke and I can't even remember what else, I felt five kids browsing books and studying in the library deserved to die." He turned back to look out the window, his shoulder now pressing even harder into Patrick's. "And for what? For being more popular than me? Smarter than me? Way more poetic and well spoken than me?" he sighed, another gust of breath hitting Patrick's face. "I don't even know why I shot the grungy kid. Shit, had I not had some fucked up teenage superiority complex and taken the time to get to know him, he might of even become a friend of mine."

Patrick glanced over at Tate and noticed his lips were trembling. He felt bad, somehow, but he didn't know what to do. He had never been good dealing with people who were upset. Man, woman, whatever. He looked down at Tate's hand and noticed it was shaking too.

He wasn't sure what overcame him, but he suddenly put his hand over Tate's. Tate lifted his head and looked at Patrick. He quickly assumed the boy would jerk his hand away and sock him in the face. He shut his eyes and waited for the blow. He still felt Tate's hand under his.

"What'd you do that for?" Tate whispered, still leaving his hand where it was. Patrick opened his eyes and ended up staring into Tate's. "I-I...uh..." Patrick stammered, not used to being the nervous one. "I'm..." he tried to lift his hand. Tate kept his gaze but moved his thumb so it kept Patrick's hand in place.

"What..." Patrick muttered and drew back a bit. Tate just leaned in closer. "You're the first person to show me empathy in a really long time." Patrick felt his face start to flush. He hoped it didn't show. "What about Violet? At least before she found out what you did." Tate gave a small smile and shook his head. "Violet didn't...know me when she cared about me. She didn't know who I really was." Patrick swallowed, Tate so was close him looking down was causing his hair to tickle Patrick's chin.

"You know what I've done. You being part of that list of offenses. And you still want to show concern for me, even if it's in a small gesture." Patrick looked away and felt his heart start to race a little. "Everyone else here either hates me or wants to use me, and understandably so." Tate grabbed Patrick's hand fully, lacing their fingers together. Patrick froze up but didn't take his away.

"But you, and not for any seemingly selfish or ill intentioned reasons, are one the first people to just sit and listen for a goddamn minute." Tate turned back to the window. Patrick did the same.

"I mean, yeah, there was Dr. Harmon, but my living bitch of a mother paid him to listen, and I ended up fucking that relationship up too." he sighed again. Patrick was so confused but also slightly happy about what had happened that he didn't know what to say.

"And..." Tate rubbed his thumb against Patrick's hand "I know this may and most likely won't last forever, but..." he lifted both of their hands and brought Patrick's near his mouth. Patrick's breath caught in his throat. "Thank you." the warm air hit his hand, followed by the sudden moisture of Tate's lips against it.  
Patrick felt his stomach drop and knees shake. He watched as Tate let go of his hand and he simply stared at Patrick. "A-anytime." Patrick cleared his throat and shifted his weight to a different leg.

"I...I uh, told them I'd be back in a few minutes." He jerked his head in the direction of the dining room.

Tate nodded and turned to walk out the other doorway. "Uh hey, before you go, are you uh-" Patrick called out and Tate turned his head "Are you going anywhere on Halloween?" Patrick stared at the floorboards. "No." He heard Tate say. He looked up. Tate was leaning against the doorway. "You?" the boy shifted so his weight was on his elbow. "No, me neither." He stuck his hand in the track jacket's pockets.

"There's an old T.V. in the basement. Looks like it's probably not broken. I was gonna see if I could get it to work. Watch whatever horror movies are on T.V.." He fiddled with a zipper.

"You asking me on a date?" Tate smirked. Patrick felt heat rise to his cheeks "Uh...n-no. I mean, I just figured with Violet not being your girlfriend and Chad not exactly craving to be with me around this time of year, you might wanna...hang out with someone." He crossed his arms against his chest.

"Well, it's not exactly like anyone is begging me to go outside with them, so..." Tate reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, taking one out and placing it between his lips. "So sure." Tate smiled and walked away.

When Patrick walked back into the dining room, Violet and Chad were leaning into each other and laughing. Had the floor not creaked, he didn't think they would have noticed him. Violet quickly leaned back in her chair and Chad cleared his throat.

"Everything okay?" He asked Patrick. He looked away from Violet and nodded. He went to get a clean glass and poured what was left of the wine into it.

"Well-" Patrick sat down and Chad smirked at him. "Me and Violet are going to the movies this Halloween and you're not invited." Patrick could tell he was past buzzed. He wasn't sure how, but they could still get drunk as ghosts. He'd seen it when Hayden had gotten ahold of a bottle of whiskey out of the Harmon's liquor cabinet and tried to hit on him.

Chad laughed and Violet giggled along with him. Patrick had some kind of paternal guilt for leaving long enough for Violet to get drunk too.

"We're gonna see 'The Rocky Horror Picture Show'. Violet's never seen it before!" He twirled a piece of her hair around his finger. "Yeah, I'm a 'Rocky Horror' virgin!" she chuckled with her hand over her mouth. Patrick wanted to be mad, but their silly mood simply made him shake his head. "You two should get some rest." He sipped from his glass. Chad rolled his eyes and made a jerking off motion with his hand. Violet laughed until she had to hold her stomach.

"Your parents are gonna be pretty mad with you if they see you this way, Violet." Patrick walked over to her chair and placed his hands on her shoulders. She sighed in irritation but pushed out her chair and cautiously tried to stand up.

"I've got you." He picked her up, her small frame not having much strain on him. "I'll talk to you about this tomorrow." he shot Chad a grim look.  
Violet rested her head on his shoulder as he climbed the stairs. "We're all dead and my parents still ignore me." she muttered into his jacket. He rubbed her back a bit as they got to the first landing.

"Well, along with the baby, they have their relationship stuff to deal with." He whispered in response. "Your father's the newest ghost in the house. And the fact their raising an eternal baby has to be very stressful."

"I used to be the baby." Violet wrapped her arms around his neck. "And then I died." She sighed and rested her head in the crook of his neck. "I didn't even know it." Patrick looked down at her, half expecting her to be crying. She just had a slightly grief expression on her face.

"Yeah. You had it tough." They entered the hallway and he walked towards her room. "But you could be Moira. Died at twenty three but stuck in her late fifties." Violet laughed and he chuckled with her. "You get to be a cute teenager forever." He felt Violet smile against his shoulder.

They finally got to the door of what use to be her room, but there was still a bed from the recent house owners and their kid (they hadn't exactly grabbed everything on their panicked run to escape the house). He put Violet down, but she still held onto his neck, causing him to fall onto the bed with her.  
"Lay with me." she whined, messing with a piece of Patrick's hair between her fingers. He sighed and removed her arms from his neck. "I don't think your dad would like that very much, Violet." He went to get up but she grabbed onto his jacket. He chuckled and groaned, grabbing one of her Mary Jane's to take off. He got the other one removed and chucked them both on the floor.

"Listen," he lifted the covers and motioned for her to get under them "-I'm only going to lay on top of the covers and I don't want you to try anything." he placed the comforter over her. She smiled and nodded. He took his own shoes off, as not to get the covers dirty. Not that he was even sure he had anything on his shoes in the first place.

He got onto the bed, it creaking under his weight. Violet turned to face him and he noticed her eyes were watering. "Violet..." he reluctantly placed a hand on the side of her face. She grabbed onto and leaned into it, letting out a small cry.

"I'm so scared all the time." she whispered, looking directly at him. He slowly began to rub her cheek with his thumb.

"Everyone here seems so miserable. They're all sad and depressed. They don't seem like they're ever happy." she sobbed and shut her eyes, tears rolling down and staining the pillowcase. "Everyone's stuck here. And half of them didn't even deserve it. You and Chad. The girls in the basement. My mom..." she choked out another weep, almost wailing.

"Violet..." he whispered and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "You and Chad had fun tonight, didn't you?" He tried to make eye contact but she kept hers shut. "Yeah, I guess so..." she sniffed and let go of Patrick's hand. He gave a small smile.

"But it's like, every time I'm having a good or even just okay moment in the house...I-" she sniffed again. "You realize you'll be stuck here?" He replied. She cried and nodded, grabbing back onto his hand. "Oh..." he swept her hair from her face. "Come here." he allowed her to lay her head in the crevice between his neck and shoulder.

He knew she didn't have nor want Tate anymore, so she didn't have a lot of male figures to turn to. Her father probably felt she was too old for him to comfort her like this, along with the fact that he was about as broken as she was, with a lot less self realization. Most the other men in the house were predatory and unkind. She couldn't trust that they wouldn't 'try' something with her in a state like this.

He rested his chin on her head and stared at the Jim Morrison poster the teenage boy had left. The black and white poster looked a little looming and scary in the lighting of the room, the only source being a streetlamp at least half a mile away. Like some unrecognizable man just peering back at you, unmoving.

He figured Violet would probably tire out soon, so he simply kept quiet and listened to the wind rustle through the trees. The house creaked with it and gusts howled through the cracks in the windows. He rubbed Violet's back a little, hoping it might soothe her into sleep quicker.

A few minutes later, he gazed down and saw her eyes were still shut, along with her breathing being more labored. He slowly and carefully got up. He walked out and shut the door quietly.

When he turned around he was jolted by the appearance of Hayden. She was in the hallway, standing near one of the windows.

"Look who's Mr. Daddy all of a sudden." She smirked and sauntered over to him. He tensed up, smelling a bit of alcohol on her breath. "So nice and loving..." she whispered while placing her arms around his neck.

"Get off of me." He firmly grabbed and lifted them from his shoulders. She laughed and teetered to the side.

"What's wrong?" She called out as he walked away "Too old for you?" she followed behind him. He paused and turned his head. Hayden's smoldering eyes stared back at him. "You may have a few people in this house fooled, but I know who you really are." She smirked "We all know what you did."

He started down the stairs again "I don't have time for this spiel tonight, Hayden." She chuckled darkly in reply as he neared the bottom step. "You can bullshit her and Tate but us non-teeny boppers aren't so impressionable. You're a roided up asshole who cheated on your boyfriend."

He stared hard at her for a minute. She smirked and held onto the banister. "You're no angel either, Hayden. You slept with a married man who only needed you because he was emotionally cracked, and look where that landed you." He lifted his hands and motioned around the empty house. "With an aborted baby and a shovel to the back of the head-" she furrowed her eyebrows and brought her hand to the back of her head "-stuck in a house forever with a man who never did, and never will, love you."

She sputtered a little and choked out what sounded like a sob "He did love me!" her voice strained. Patrick grinned and looked her hard in the eyes. "He'd rather have his dick in my mouth than in your pussy any day of the week." He knew that wasn't true, but also knew it would add the sting he desired.

She quickly wiped at her face as her chin quivered. "You don't have anyone fooled!" she cried out. He flipped her off as if it was as common as a wave, smirking, and headed to the basement.


End file.
